


aegri somnia

by crescentius



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentius/pseuds/crescentius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasaki Haise slips in and out of a world of what is, may be, or may be not. (While he falls in the deep pit of a mix of inescapable reality and unbreakable illusion, something is bound to get him out.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	aegri somnia

 

Haise thought he was falling. He could see the rocks beneath him, the rocks that will crash and bury in his skull, lodge in his brain and kill him immediately, in a split of a second, a day late.

But then Haise forgot. Was it falling? Was it yesterday? The day after yesterday? Or the day before that?

Haise sees a lot of things.

But he does not know if those are real.

Now he thought he sees somebody.

He was the one falling. Haise could see the rocks beneath him, the rocks that will crash and bury in his skull, lodge in his brain and kill him immediately, in a split of a second, a day late.

 

Haise fell.

But it is not him who he saw on the rocky bottom.

 

 

 

 

Meals with his subordinates were always pleasant. Of course there would still be bickering among them but Haise was sure it was just all that. He began to stare behind Shirazu, on the surface of the varnished wooden cabinet.

“Maman, are you alright?” Saiko asked.

Haise pacified her, knowing that showing them unorthodox behaviour would lead them to further questions and worry.

 

 

His team members went away and he was left in the kitchen for some cleaning. He washed his hands and he saw himself drowning in the dark, cold water devoid of any creatures, of anything from the dominion of the god of the sea. He was drowning, pulled down by the invisible force he was unable to see or recognize.

Haise knows he is drowning. And bubbles, bubbles or air were being released from his lungs and rose, rising above, to where, he thinks, he would never be able to go back to. The last of his breath was taken away from him. Red, red was replacing the dark waters. The Red was like the releasing of cigarette smoke he’s seen in the seedy parts of Tokyo, curling and spreading and dissipating from the eyes. The Red was the same, curling and spreading, but never dissipating. _“Yes,”_ Haise thought, that it was like blood. Blood of a human, blood of an animal killed, blood of a… ghoul. It spread and enveloped him, and hands reached out to him like desperate, hungry souls in search for salvation. Haise couldn’t give that. He himself was searching for it, and it seemed like it was taken away from him before he could even touch it.

But then Haise forgot. Was it him really drowning?

Was it even real at all?

 

Haise woke up, his sweat clinging to him like film, his vision, a cloak that wore his shoulders down in the two years of his known life as Sasaki Haise or somebody entirely different or like him, he doesn’t know.

 

But in the last second of his vision, someone else took his place and was dragged into the depths.

 

 

Haise drowned.

But it is not himself who he saw.

 

 

 

 

Another mission.

 

Haise heaved an injured CCG investigator’s arm over his shoulder to aid him walk to the medical booth for emergency treatment. The injured CCG investigator still has his helmet on, his left arm bleeding profusely, and his foot in a weird angle, walking in a way Haise sure isn’t right. They arrived in the medical booth and had the investigator sit down. He was set for another task outside so he proceeded to get out. Haise heard the investigator’s voice call him. He turned and saw straw-coloured hair and blue eyes. “Thank you, First Class Sasaki.” Astounded, he nodded stiffly and made his exit. Haise was sure—no, he wasn’t sure if he knew that shade of colour for a hair. Had he? Haise shook the thought away with the absurdity like the small drops of rain made its way to the ground.

 

 

 

 

Tonight was different than all the nights Haise had experienced in his known life.

 

Now he hears things.

First was fine, he felt like he was in a central train station, or in a university, or after classes where he teach CCG academy students. The buzz of life, of activity.

Then someone shouted. Something in the voice sounded utter urgency. Then a cackle of laughter. The buzzing of activity. Haise wasn’t that much of a sociable person, but he so begged the voices not to go and leave him with the individual ones.

In an instant, everything was quiet, the silence that used to comfort him, seemed to deafen him now more than before.

Laughter filled the dark void, the room, and he can hear his own ragged breathing as if he was really there.

 

He wasn’t, was he?

 

 

He thought he can feel eyes staring at him, scrutinizing, piercing through his searching ones, ripped at his insides and clutched hard on his very soul. But he can’t see a thing, and there was no one there.

Haise waited, and the footsteps of a person rang loudly, every impact the person’s soles making sounds Haise thought to be feared. Then came the creaking sounds of metal going against metal, the two trying to work together. It clicked for three times, and the footfalls and the creaking stopped.

 

Haise felt afraid, and it feels like it hurt, that this hurts him to no end. This feels like a nightmare, a nightmare he’d have to live again.

 

Haise feels like this is not the first time.

 

 

 

 

Nothing was going in Haise’s head.

 

The bright fluorescent lights of CCG’s discussion room made it hard for Haise to focus, or that he doesn’t even want to focus at all.

Haise kept tapping his pen on the information papers given to him. His eyes stared blankly at the cup of coffee sitting in front of him, glazing on the bubbles that were previously made by the pouring of the secretary of the presiding office. Haise thought he could pour the coffee himself, even better, but wondered why he would be doing that, but something made his fingers itch in wanting to hold the coffee pot and do it himself, but restrained himself from doing so.

 

“First Class Sasaki, were you listening?” Associate Special Class Mado Akira said, giving Haise a stern look. Haise knew that Associate Special Class Akira Mado noticed him not paying attention to whatever was going on in the meeting, but he took an obvious lie.

“Yes. Please carry on,” Haise mumbled.

Mado Akira sighed dejectedly and continued.

His underlings eyed him worriedly, Mutsuki’s one visible eye set on him and his eyebrows scrunched in a frown. Urie wasn’t paying attention to Haise and focused his interest on the presentation fed to them. Shirazu was sitting in the same place with Haise, being the squad leader, and tried to listen but was fussing in his seat instead. Saiko wasn’t present with the Quinx Squad today, though Haise was fine with it, he argued with Urie for a while about controlling his subordinates.

 

While Haise still tried to listen, his mind wandered away, slowly, slowly, until his ears picked something up about finding lost CCG investigators and related over the recent past large-scale missions CCG executed. Past missions were a lot, but past large-scale missions were few to count.

He focused on the presentation, and to Associate Special Class Mado Akira’s voice.

Haise’s fingers skimmed over the information given to him, flicked throught the pages: mission briefings, officials, official letters for the mission execution, and searched for the list.

 

 

The dead, the dead, and the lost.

 

The names were set on an alphabetical order, age, rank, date of birth, mission last attended, and date of loss or death. The picture that was taken before the respective mission was also included. _“Why”,_ Haise wondered, would this be assigned to them. Haise knows how the rest of the CCG sees them, and he knows what they say about his team, his squad. But including Associate Special Class Mado Akira isn’t right.

 

Haise knows something.

But then again, Haise knows nothing.

 

 

He scans through names in the file. His eyes scanned for the names, status, and last achieved or ascribed rank. There were numerous names:

Akai Tomonori, Rank 1, deceased.

Arine, Associate Special Class, deceased.

Asachi Waka, Rank 2, deceased.

Atou Daisuke, Associate Special Class, deceased.

Kusaba Ippei, Rank 2, deceased.

Mura Sakino, Rank 2, deceased.

Numa Jun, Rank 2, deceased.

Okamuchi Yuuta, Rank 2, deceased.

 

The list of the deceased went on, and he stopped at the missing or lost list.

Chino Mutsumi, Associate Special Class, missing.

Takizawa Seidou, Rank 1, missing.

Naga—

 

 

_“First Class Sasaki Haise is needed at the Cochlea Facility for the questioning for ghoul Donato Porpora immediately.”_

 

“I’m sorry this meeting has to be cut short for you, Sasaki, but you have to go immediately,” Associate Special Class Mado Akira mentioned to him. Haise nodded, gathered his files and left. Associate Special Class Mado Akira then pressed the next slide and out came the complete names of the people classified as missing or lost.

 

 

 

 

 

Haise’s mind were reading in the long list of names of the deceased after his work at the Cochlea facility.

 

 

Then his surroundings changed.

He was in the Room.

Multicoloured streams of light washed over, alive, dancing, flowing like water, unintentional, scattered, free, and very, very much—

 

It was switched off.

There wasn’t any afterglow, from the far reaches of his peripheral vision, there was nothing.

Not a spark, not a flicker, not an ember.

It’s dead, dead, light.

 

Extinguished. Doused.

Very. Much. Dead.

 

He waited for something else, but nothing. He was alone. Alone.

Alone? Why?

Realisation struck. There was a kind of guttural, bubbling nervousness, a kind of anger he felt. _“What is this,”_ he asked, clawing, pulling at his gut.

 

This was wrong.

This was wrong.

This is wrong.

All of it.

 

 _“Why now? Why here? What is this? Is this some kind of sick, twisted dream that rose out of the recesses of the pieces of shattered glass that struggled to pull itself together?”_ His mind run rampant, all, everything is in chaos, in flames, in the bottom of the sea, suicides on the rock bottom, fire devouring, fire extinguished, pain in the body, pain always corrupting. This, this is madne—

 

 

“You were standing there too long, my arms are getting numb bringing the damn papers for you,” Urie grumbled and nudged his elbow. Haise almost dropped his own stack of papers as well. He was about to open his mouth for a reply, but Urie beat him to the door.

Haise set his stack on the worktable in his room and changed his attire. The day has been exceptionally exhausting, and the dim light of his room made his drowsiness worsen. His eyes were drooping when he sat on the chair. He fitted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and started reviewing mundane mission reports.

 

 

Haise was halfway through when a hand grabbed his hair and yanked it back top meet a gaze that is too foreign, too cold, too manic, and somewhat familiar.

The pain hurts. The hand was gripping his hair, painful. The roots threatening to separate itself from his scalp.

Was it only there? The pain didn’t stay too long.

It spread, on the ends of his hands, his fingers, on to the edges of his toes, and he feels warm, viscous liquid pooling at his feet, which were too warm to be considered otherwise on what it really is.

The face on which the eyes belong to says something, the words inaudible, passing along Haise’s ears like the bustling sounds of people on the street. His vision was in a haze, dimming, slightly out of control. He focuses again, and the person, his gaunt eyes, his white suit and coloured tie and the combed back hair is a stark image from whatever the person, his captor was holding.

 

Haise is bound.

And what is there to do? To accept his fate like a sacrificial lamb? Or to succumb to the darkness calling out to him, seducing him, orders him, giving him a chance of getting out? The man’s look is menacing, and pain racked through his body, relentless, merciless, unyielding, unyielding, unyielding, unyielding—

 

 

“What is one thousand minus seven?”

 

 

Haise opens his bloodshot eyes and rushes to the bathroom, feeling the urge to vomit. Nothing comes out of his system and he proceeded to wash his face with cold water from the sink. He raises his head, and sees one grey eye and one ghoul eye staring back at him from the mirror. The mirror shows him what he truly is. Haise hates it. How could he be someone so, so terrifying, a person, no, an antithesis to the human he once—No, a synthesis to what a human is, and what a ghoul is. Yet, he feels so alone in this world, not a ghoul, not a human, somewhere in between, never close to the other, not as accepted as the other.

 

His left eye lost control, how could it be, his gut told him his eye wasn’t the only one that lost control in his life.

 

 

 

 

“Congratulations on having a successful mission, First Class Sasaki,” Associate Special Class Mado Akira says to Haise in the main building of CCG located in the 1st Ward.

“Thanks.” He murmured, and Associate Special Class Mado Akira taking notice of it.

“Something the matter? Does your head hurt? Or is it something else?” She inquired, falling into Haise’s step.

“No, not really. Just Shirazu still getting used to his new quinque.”

“Yeah? He’ll adjust to it soon. More when he needs it most,” Associate Special Class Mado Akira says. Haise nods, knowing the time might come soon, or if not, he has faith that Shirazu will overcome the obstacle he’s facing, for at the moment, he knows they are strong.

 

 

Haise is bothered, his daily life being affected by those… visions he’s been seeing for a stretch of time. Most, haunting images, and a rarity, no, never one for pleasantries.

What is this? Last night, a voice inside his head nags him for no end, words that mean nothing to him, garbled words that are scattered, grains of sand released into the wind, yet fatal and painful to the naked eye, painful indeed, slow, incinerating his insides, scrambling, scrambling—

 

 

“Let me gently scramble up your insides.”

 

 

Pain, pain, piercing his gut, his body felt like being thrown around like a rag doll,under and over, side to side, his heart trying to keep blood flowing in his veins, futile, all spilling on the dark pavement, solitary to no one, but a crushed body as he sees it as what he thought is his pain, but of another, and watching the other fall to an imminent death in his place.

 

 

“Choose! Who will it be? Choose! Will it be the mother? Or the child? Choose, choose, choose!!!”

 

 

This is another one, and Haise hopes for all of it to stop. Now he has to choose, whose life? One for another, for whom will the life be granted to, only to be robbed off of another? The choice burdens his shoulders and the pain, the pain, is it his to bear?

 

 

“Let me get more of you! Here, at the end, let me devour you!!!”

 

 

His fingers and toes were painful, or what Haise thinks is left of them. Blood clung to his body, blood he once thought would run out but never did. Haise pleaded for it to stop, but then again, and again, and again, and again. He hopes for no more, no more of this pain. His throat is dry and sore from screaming, for praying, to any god who might listen, but no, no, no, no, no, no—

 

 

“Fuck you. That’s foul. Almost like the intestines of a fish on the verge of spoiling.”

 

 

The voice, is it his? Is it his hands and feet and body who did the movements? Is it real? The breaking of the chains, the tormentor, under his captive. The prey turning into a predator.

 

 

“What is one thousand minus seven?” Jaws, about to…

 

 

“I’ll ask again. What is one thousand minus seven?” The newfound captive’s voice was drowned out by the pounding of Haise’s blood in his ears, adrenaline rushing, instincts kicking in. Is it him? Or another? No. None of that rationality, none of those morals, none of those… humanity.

 

 

“You tried to devour me, so you have no time to complain if I eat you, do you?” Jaws, jaws closing in, jaws in for the—

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey,” Haise looks to the owner of the voice who called him.

“Hm?” he replied, quite unsure.

“Yeah, well, if you were a ghoul, would you eat Yoshikawa from Class Two?”

 

Haise doesn’t know who this Yoshikawa from Class Two is, for he is well on his way far from school. But this, this is something he might have gotten used to, maybe in another world, in another lifetime, so close to his touch, yet too far for his mind to reach.

“Well, did you hear me?” he nudged Haise’s elbow a little bit roughly. Haise would’ve given his companion a frown, but he didn’t mind. He usually would, but he overlooked it.

 

 

This might be a moment that passes every time the moon bathes in crimson red. So rare. So beautiful. So cherished.

The leaves rustled, and the wind caressed Haise’s cheeks. He’s been lounging atop of a concrete dome on a kids’ playground, and it seems there has been a humble feast laid down between them to share: fries, burgers, and two servings of soda.

His companion’s hair is a shade of blonde, of what, he doesn’t really know. His clothes, a loud coloured jacket and headphones that sums up his appearance and self. Haise looks at him, at his brown eyes and feels a spark of recognition, faint, dull, an ember, but still present, but Haise is sure he is somewhat familiar. Nagging, but the good kind. He looked at him and smiled an awfully cheerful smile that contested the night sky that befell the two.

 

 

“You know that I knew, right?” his eyes twinkled, as if it was a mischievous joke or something. Haise thought it must be very typical of him to talk like that.

Haise doesn’t understand a lot of these, but this much he can comprehend. Something pulls itself out of his memories that corresponds to his companion’s question.

Haise nods, his brows furrowing, and he’s trying to close and pull the veneer lost in his identity back in, helium filled balloons, kites blown off-course, memories like waves on shore, coming and going—to Haise at least.

 

 

“I really tried to do whatever it takes, you know? It’s just that, not everything always gets your way.” He smiled an apologetic one, eyes shining in a way Haise knows wasn’t just a trick of the light.

Haise knew nothing better than just stare and wonder why and how.

Haise musters whatever his courage gave him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he hangs his head.

“Come on! It was just a small thing! Now don’t go whining about it!” He smirked and laughed.

Haise thought it refreshing. This is something good. Laughs like this are hard to find. Like a spring breeze that makes the cherry blossoms rain down in soft, beautiful motions. For a short period of time.

 

 

“But I hope fate won’t jinx me again, huh?” Haise hummed at his companion’s statement, bringing his knees to his chest, his ears open to his companion’s words. The night is ripe, the moon hung on the dark curtain that is the sky. The dust that was the stars sprinkled like ashes on a clear night. His companion sighed a loud sigh that seemed to be at of relief, of another hardship, of another victory, or of another moment like this.

 

 

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got good people watching out for you.” He says, and Haise knew who he meant, and he was sure to never let any kind of harm befall upon them in the best of his power. But what about him? Isn’t he supposed to be on his side?

Haise felt the concrete below his palms, to see if everything is real, that his senses aren’t pulling him into another illusion.

 

 

“I know I could’ve been there, but I’m sorry I’m not. I hope you understand me, yeah?” He says. Haise nods, staring up at the space, choosing to listen and to understand. To take everything in, and keep it, keep it so damn close it won’t be gone again.

 

 

Then at least this. He would have this.

 

 

“But Haise,” he looks up at Haise, Haise’s tears threatening to spill out and him, smiling the most bright smile Haise has ever seen in his life, “Remember that I’ll do anything to keep you safe and all right. That’s what I always do, anyway.”

He stands up and brushes off invisible crumbs off of his green capri pants and does a mock salute at Haise.

 

“I’ll see you again, then we will go home, Kaneki,” and disappears.

Haise’s tears flow involuntarily with closed eyes and wakes up with a whisper of “Hide,” in his lips.

 

 

Hide in his lips. And of silent prayers to whoever is above.

Hide in his lips. And of dreams that brought Hide to Haise.

Hide.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 0:00
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANEKI KEN!!!
> 
>  
> 
> First work about Sasaki Haise (or Kaneki Ken) or who he is and would be in Tokyo Ghoul! I never really thought of relationships in particular but I guess the void between Haise and Hide is apparent even though Kaneki Ken has receded in the depths of Haise's mind and I really wanted to know and put into words as much as possible how Haise would be going through, say, in situations like these so I hope my work justifies as such?
> 
> Please tell me what you think the comments for future improvements! Thank you!


End file.
